Camp X (17 page)

“What will happen to us if we tell you what you want to know?” Jack demanded. “You can't afford to let us go free.”

“If you co-operate you will be left here, tied up. A call will be made tomorrow to inform the police of your whereabouts.”

“And then we'll tell them everything about you,” Jack said. “You'll be arrested . . . but you know that.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“You don't care if they arrest you?” I wanted to know.

“Alas, I will not be here to be taken into custody.”

“So that means whatever you're doing is going to be done before tomorrow,” I reasoned.

He nodded his head, and a slight smile came to his lips. “I was certain that you would make a first-class newspaperman.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do you really think he'll tell us?” Jack said.

Mr. Krum shrugged. “You will not be able to tell anybody until long after the plan is completed, so I will share it with you. Tonight, at ten-thirty, there will be a simultaneous attack
on the German prisoner-of-war camp in Bowmanville and the D.I.L. plant.”

“The D.I.L. plant! But our mother is . . .” I let the sentence trail off. I didn't have to worry. She'd be home by five, and safe. Home and looking for us.

“Your mother is working the day shift today,” Mr. Krum said.

“How do you know that?” Jack demanded.

“I know the rotation of her shifts as I know many things. I was hoping, for your sakes, that she would not be present at the time of the attack.”

“Why . . . why does that matter?” Jack asked anxiously.

“I would not wish anything to happen to her. You are both fine boys . . . I like both of you.”

“But if you're attacking those other places, why did you want to know all about the camp?” I asked.

“Ahh . . . that is the next stage of the plan. These sites are being attacked merely to attract attention. The men training at the camp will be drawn off in both directions to offer assistance. It is at that time that the camp itself will be attacked.”

“What's the point in doing that?” Jack asked.

“The camp has been host to a number of very important persons. Tonight, one of the most important men in the Allied forces is there.”

My eyes widened slightly and I turned to Jack. Was he was after Little Bill?

“From your expressions, it appears that you have some knowledge of the person to whom I'm referring,” Mr. Krum said.

I tried to make my face go blank. Had we given something away . . . had he overheard us talking?

“That information, as is much information, is known to me through radio transmissions. All those men who consider themselves master spies, and they cannot keep secrets . . . I know
everything
.”

I had no idea how much information he had discovered, but I knew that they didn't even suspect him. I'd been told that if they thought he was a spy they would have arrested him. His cover as a newspaper editor had worked perfectly.

“It doesn't matter what you think you know!” Jack snapped defiantly. “That place is well defended.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I'm not telling you anything. You just try to break in there and see what happens to you!”

“I will not be the only one attacking. There are three special teams each with six elite agents.”

“And you're their leader?” I asked.

Mr. Krum laughed. “Far from that. I am simply a loyal citizen.”

“A traitor is what you are!” Jack snapped.

“Hardly. To fail to act in the defence of my country would be to behave as a traitor.”

“But you told us you were a Canadian,” I protested.

“I am Canadian by declaration, but German by birth.”

“You're nothing but a stinking Nazi!” Jack practically yelled.

“I suggest that you use neither that tone nor the insult when my associates arrive. As I have said, they are less
tolerant than I.” He paused. “I am a German. I am loyal to Germany . . . loyal to all my family that remain in that country. When I was contacted, there was no question where my allegiance lay.”

“What about all those things you said about the Nazis being evil?” I asked.

“Simply a way to cover myself. Always look for the one who protests loudest to be the one who is hiding the most.”

“But you even tried to enlist in the army . . . why would you do that?”

“Can you not imagine what service I would have been to the German government if I could have become part of Canadian intelligence or communications?” he asked. “But enough talk.”

Mr. Krum stood up. He went to a cupboard, opened it up and pulled out a long coil of rope.

“For the safety of us all, it is best that you boys be tied up. I would not wish to have you attempt to escape. The results would be
most
unpleasant.”

He put the gun down on the counter and opened a drawer. I gasped slightly as he pulled out a long knife. Sunlight caught the blade and it glittered. He bent down and placed it on the floor. Then with his foot slid it toward me. It stopped just a few feet short of my chair. He took the coil of rope and tossed it so that it also landed right by my feet.

“George, you are to tie up your brother.”

“I'm . . . I'm not going to do that,” I stammered, shaking my head.

“You will do as you are told. I will direct you.”

I hesitated.

“Now!” he barked.

“Do what he says, George,” Jack told me.

I bent over and picked up the rope and then the knife. Mr.

Krum directed me to loop the rope around both my brother and the back of the chair, then cut it. The knife sliced easily through the thick cord rope. I was amazed by how sharp it was.

“Now cut three more pieces . . . smaller . . . perhaps two feet in length.”

Reluctantly I did what I was told.

“Secure each of your brother's legs to a leg of the chair.”

I looped the piece around Jack's leg and started to tie it. I looked up at him apologetically.

“Tighter! Much tighter!” Mr. Krum ordered.

“Sorry,” I mouthed to Jack as I pulled the rope much more tightly around him.

I finished the first leg and then did the same with the second, snugging the rope in but leaving it as loose as I dared. Next I tied his hands together behind the back of the chair.

Mr. Krum came over. He was still holding the pistol in one hand but with the other he proceeded to check each loop of rope. Then he stepped back.

“Cut three more pieces of similar length,” he ordered.

I knew without asking that I was now going to cut the ropes that would hold me. I did what I was told. Each time the knife sliced easily through the cord.

“Now sit,” he said. “I want you to tie both of your legs in the same manner you secured your brother's.”

I reached out and took the first piece of rope. If it was strange to tie up my brother, this was completely unreal. I pulled the rope until my leg was pressed tightly against the leg of the chair. I put a knot in the end and then double-knotted it. I did the same with the second leg.

“Now put your hands behind your back . . .behind the back of the chair.”

I did what I was told, and Mr. Krum circled around behind me. He bent down. I heard the sound of the gun being placed on the floor and then felt the rope being looped around my wrists. It hurt as he tightened it, and I pulled away.

“I am sorry, but I cannot loosen it,” Mr. Krum said.

When he'd finished, he draped a coil of rope around my chest so that my back was pressed against the back of the chair. He then dropped to his knees and tightened the knots on both of my legs, pulling them until they hurt. Satisfied, he went to Jack and tightened every rope in turn. Any hope that I'd left some slack was gone.

“Now we may begin to—”

He stopped at the sound of tires against gravel. There was a car pulling up. My first thought was that somebody was coming who would rescue us, and then I remembered that Mr. Krum was expecting the rest of his party to arrive. There was the sound of a car door slamming, and then another and another and another. There were a number of people. It had to be the team of “elite” agents he'd mentioned—Nazis. And
they were coming here to talk to us. I couldn't help but think about something we'd said just before the Lieutenant-Colonel asked us to sign the secrecy oaths—how we wouldn't even tell what we knew . . . even if we were tortured by Nazi agents. Brave words.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE BACK DOOR OPENED
and a man strode through.
“Guten Tag, Herr Krum. Wie geht's—”

He stopped in his tracks as he saw us. He looked shocked, his mouth hanging open, speechless. A second man stopped behind him.

“Was sind diese Leute?”
the first man demanded angrily.
“Warum sind Die hier?”

“I had no choice but to—”

“Nein, nein, nein. Nur in Deutsch.”

“Ja, ja.”

The man came completely into the room and five other men followed him in. The first man continued to ask Mr. Krum questions. He was angry and upset, and Mr. Krum was stammering in response. He looked worried.

I caught a few of the words—words I knew from my grandparents—but there was no way I could make any sense of anything. I wondered if Jack understood better. He knew a
few more words than I did.

The man who was obviously in charge came over and stood before us.

“I am told that you have important information,” he said crisply.

“You speak English,” I said.

“I speak many languages. English is just one. I am going to now ask you boys some questions and I expect answers.”

“We're not going to—”

Suddenly he reached out and slapped Jack across the face! His chair rocked backwards with the blow!

“Leave him alone!” I screamed.

He turned to me. “Would you rather I strike you?”

“No . . . no,” I stammered.

“Wise. Answer my questions and there will be no further need to strike anybody. Now, tell me of your involvement with the camp.”

“We don't know much,” I said. “We've been around it a couple of times and—”

“Don't tell him anything!” Jack yelled at me.

The man reached out again and slapped my brother across the face, harder this time. I cringed and looked away. My eyes fell on Mr. Krum. He was cringing too.

The man was now holding Jack's face in his hands and squeezing. Jack was trying to look away, to move his head, but it was hopeless.

“You will tell us what we want to know. It may be slow and painful or it may be without pain, but you will tell. Do you
understand?” he yelled.

Jack continued to struggle, and I could see the man tightening his grip until my brother's face was distorted in pain.

“Just stop!” I shouted out. “I'll talk to you . . . I'll tell you everything.”

He released Jack's face and came and stood right beside me. “If you do not tell me, it may be necessary for me to take other measures.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you live with your parents?”

“Just our mother, because . . . why . . . why do you want to know?”

“It would be a simple matter to send two of my men to retrieve her. If you do not give me the information I require, that will happen. Do you want your mother to be our prisoner as well?”

“I told you I'd tell you everything!” I protested.

“That is my, how do you say . . . insurance policy. At the first lie I will dispatch my men to get your mother.”

“I'll tell you everything!” Jack yelled. “I'll tell you everything!”

He turned to Jack. “
You
will tell us nothing.”

What did he mean?”

“You will remain quiet, not uttering a word, while your brother talks. From him I expect the truth. From you I expect only half-truths. It is better for everybody that I get nothing but the truth.”

“I'll do that . . . I'll tell you everything . . . just please leave my brother alone . . . please!” I begged.

“Fine. Let us begin. Tell me about the camp. I wish to know about the guards, the paths, and the manner in which you entered the grounds. Do you understand?”

“I'll tell you everything.”

“Excellent. Let us begin.”

“That is the last question. You were wise not to resist or to lie,” he said.

I felt my whole body relax as he walked away at last. It was over . . . he was going to leave me alone . . . he wasn't going to hurt our mother. But what now?

I looked over at my brother. I wanted some reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Instead I found myself gawking at him. His face was swollen and bloody and he stared vacantly at the floor. He looked as if he was in shock.

The man walked across the room and I watched as he stopped in front of one of the others. Mr. Krum stood off to the side. The remaining four were nowhere to be seen.

“May I get them some water?” Mr. Krum asked.

The man turned around. “
Ja, ja,
that is fine.”

Mr. Krum took two glasses down from a cupboard. He went to a pump on the counter and began working it. At first nothing came from it but a high-pitched squeak as he moved the handle up and down. Then a trickle of brown liquid emerged, followed by a lot more, and finally clear water
started to run into the sink. He filled the two glasses and brought one to Jack, holding it up to his lips. Jack turned away.

“I don't want it,” Jack spat. “I don't want anything from you.”

“Do not be silly. This may be the last drink you have until tomorrow, when somebody comes to find you. You will need water.”

“Take it, Jack,” I quietly pleaded.

It wasn't just that I wanted him to drink, but that I knew I couldn't if he didn't. It was bad enough that I was the one who'd done most of the talking. He turned his head back toward Mr. Krum. As he opened his mouth he cringed in pain. He allowed Mr. Krum to pour the liquid into his mouth and gulped it down, a trickle slipping around the glass and down his chin.